No Longer Am I Here By Force
by BleedingJoyfulInsanity
Summary: Karkat doesn't die, and he doesn't go to the "after life" with the rest of his friends like he is supposed to. Instead he has a completely intact if painful body, and is in the middle of bleeping nowhere. He then does some stupid things and loses his entire self, but, who says he may not come to appreciate the new him? The tale, the adventure. DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HOMESTUCK.
1. Chapter 1

You wake up.

You gasp in a breath, hands shooting to your throat.

Which is still there.

No raised line.

No gaping wound wraped in a circular line all the way around your neck.

Nothing.

Your name is Karkat Vantaz, and you're one-hundred percent absou-fucking-letly sure that, just thirty second ago, you were decapitated by your morail.

You can't get your hands off your throat.

You just can't.

You are so relieved to ACTUALLY be breathing again that you just sit there for almost twenty minutes, just glupping in air.

Your crying.

Your distgusting candy red blood is rolling down your cheeks as you sit there.

You hate him.

You really do.

That's why you're crying.

No other reason.

There has never been any other reason.

You're not hurt.

Hell fucking no.

You just hate him.

And being decapitated hurts.

That's the ONLY reason why you're crying.

Nothing else.

Not because of the break up.

Nope.

Not because he killed you and all of your friends.

Nah-ah.

Nope.

You didn't even care about the fucker in the first place.

Hell no!

He was just-.

…

…

He was-.

He was just-.

…

…

…

He WAS just your morail.

No.

There's absoultely nothing to cry about.

He was just some nameless shit now, anyway, right?

Your start wailing.

Loudly.

You're blood pusher hurts.


	2. Chapter 2

After a while you finally take stalk of your current situation.

Your whole body hurts.

That is a given.

You've been starved, beaten, and battered by that damn game and you've also recently been decapiated.

But, it stucking fucking hurts. Even your horns hurt, though can't imagine why.

You also feel smaller, but that must be the effect from the almost-lost of your head.

Anyway, you get back to the topic at hand.

You feel your pulse.

Just because you are not lacking a head anymore does not mean you're not dead.

But you check anyway.

You have a pulse.

You have a fucking pulse.

YOU! Who was just. DECAPITATED! No. More. Than. An. HOUR! Ago. Has. A. FUCKING! PULSE!

You can't believe it.

You are supposed to be dead.

No excuses.

You were done.

You didn't want to go through ANOTHER fucking timeline!

Done!

D-o-n-e!

Done!

Dead! You were supposed to be dead!

Like Aradia!

Like Nepeta and Equius!

Like fucking everybody!

White eyes and a mostly repaired, ghostly body!

That's what your situation is SUPOSSED to be like right now!

Not this!

You are done!

Or, you were apparently.

And, if you're going to be forced to play around with the fucking timeline again, where the fuck are you?

You're not in a fimilar place or situation like you usually are when you enter a new time line.

Where the fuck are your friends?

You-.

You're not the only one in this timeline, this time, are you?

Ridiclous!

They're probably just being there idiot, budlge brained selves and decided to go ahead to mess with you.

Yeah! That sounds about right.

You just entered another fucking time line along with the rest of your friends.

And they decided to screw with you and abandon you.

Yeah.

It's all back to fucking normal.

Just the way it should be. (But what about-.)

No.

You're not going to think about that nookstain.

Absoultely not.

Nope.

Not thinking about him!

Trying to distract yourself from you own thoughts, you start to explore the area you are in, almost as if you can escape from your thoughts.

You can't.

But you try to distract yourself anyway.

You are in a forest of some sort.

Tall trees on all sides of you.

Towering.

(You also feel smaller, physically, but you just push it off because you're so done with shit right now, and you just can't handle anything else right now, or your going to brake-down.)

They're mocking you with faces you swear are laughing at you.

It's not like you can help your fucking situation, okay? (You can't help that you're here, or that you apparently fucking SHRINK instead of GROW.)

You know this is all ridiclous (You're supposed to be dead and DONE with this shit for Gog's sake!), but it's not like you can do anything about it, okay?

You're just going to have to roll with the punches.

You keep exploring.

You wander through more and more and just fucking ENDLESS forestry.

You're starting to believe it'll never end.

You stumble across a small clearing.

In the very back of this clearing, in front of a gaping body of water, is some type of scale.

One half of the scale seems to contain a bowl with sides like jagged teeth.

It also seems very thin.

Perhaps it is the remants of an egg?

The other half has some kind of weird ass skull.

You stay away from it.

It gives you bad vibes.

You approach the egg, not sure why.

You need to find some sort of civilization.

You need to find food.

You need to find water and somewhere to sleep.

You need to survive.

So you approach the egg.

You wait staring at it from about five feet away.

You don't dare get any closer.

It's the remants of a dragon egg.

You're sure of it.

And there might be some form of edible substance in it if you are lucky.

Assuming you're not snapped up by a protective lusus wing-beast first, that is.

Your stomache rumbles.

Your hungry.

You're almost LITERALLY starving.

Food had become so scarce on the meteror.

You can't remember the last time you ate anything.

You try to recall what your favorite food taste like.

You can't

You want to check the egg. Desperately.

But, even if you crossed the last five or so feet, you still wouldn't be able to get to it.

It's about five feet above you when you're standingon you tipetoes.

You wouldn't be able to reach without tipping the scale.

And the damn thing looks important.

So you don't try to tip it over.

But you do start glancing around, trying to find a way to:

1.) Reach the damn egg without disturbing the scale.

2.) Determine a quick route of escape incase a vengful lusus wing-beast comes after you.

You find only two possible solutions.

Well, okay, maybe three.

To escape the wing-beast?

Run like a fucking wing-beast was chasing yo-. Oh, wait! One IS, DUMBASSS!

To get to the egg?

Well, as you already observed, there are multiple trees around.

Maybe you could scale one of those and lean down the closest branch you can and dip your hand in side?

Or, just possibly, you could scale around to the back of the rock the scale is sitting apon, and using the bumpy back to climb up to the egg and peer at its contents?

Maybe.

You try the trees first.

You go over to the closetest tree near the scale. It is a straight pole up.

You dig in your claws and tense your stomach muscles, before making your way up the tree.

The bark flakes off in big streaks and you almost fall off multiple times, but you finally (Taking a lot longer than you SHOULD HAVE HAD TO.)make your way to the first branch.

You are exactly eye level with the egg.

Key word?

Eye level.

Your about thirty fucking feet away from the damn egg.

You really don't want to chance scooting down the branch so you can get to the egg.

Because you are fourty feet from the ground.

Almost two hive lengths, that is.

But, you are hungry.

Starving.

Your tired.

Emotionally.

Physically.

You just want to sleep.

You just want to die. (You just want to be done with this.)

You haven't eaten in literally a couple a

Well, not much anyway.

A protein bar and any available, fragile flutter-beast (Bird.)does not provide much to go on.

So you start scooting down the branch towards what you hope will contain your first meal in what feels like forever.

You half way across, and the branch is still steady. This is a good thing, you guess.

Then again, the egg is only half of the length away that the tree is from the ground, therefore it is much taller than the scale, and he really shouldn't have been that worried about the branch breaking, now should've he?

You keep scooting.

You are now in the same predicument you were in earlier.

You are five feet away from the egg.

You're still nervous about the lusus wing-best.

But, you've already made your disicion.

And you were sticking to it.

You, hestiantly, but determinedly, start scooting the rest of the way forward.

The branch starts two bend slightly, but you are barely two thirds of the way down it, so you're not that worried.

You scoot forward the last to feet and shut you eyes.

You open them a couple minutes later when you don't feel the teeth of a protective wing-beast penetrating your flesh.

You guess you're in the clear, then.

You peer down into the egg.

You drool.

It's a feast.

There's a full, undeveloped mass of yellow in there.

A full egg's insides.

Hell. Fucking. Yes!

Okay, well, maybe your being dramatic, it doesn't seem to have a yolk, but there's a huge mass of slime in the bowls of the egg, and you just haven't eaten in _forever_…

And, when you see the edible yellow slime still left over from the things hatching, your stomache _begs._

You know it is not the most healthy thing.

You know it may not be the most delicious tasting thing either.

But, it's food.

Something that you haven't had the luxury of for _far _to long.

You lean down, pressing a close to the branch a you can, and it bends down with you, getting you closer and closer to the egg.

You're able to reach the lip of the egg, but not its contents.

You're going to have to get lower.

You scoot forward another foot and the branch bends down further, but you're still not close enough.

You're going to have to unwrap your arms from around the branch.

You slowly let go, and let your self carefully fall so that your legs were still wrapped around the branch, but you were now hanging upside down from the branch.

If you reach, you can just get to the mass of slime on top of the egg's bowls.

That sucks; you really wanted to be able to get to the thicker stuff on the bottom.

You guess you'll just have to do with what you can get.

You start gentley scooping your hands through the slime, still wary of tilting the scale.

You bring handful after handful to your face, gulping it down like your dying, which, technology, you are.

You are so overly-excited that you don't care that it's dripping down your face and into your hair, though your keep your eyes clenched shit so it doesn't get in them.

Your thinkpan starts to get fuzzy the more you eat, but you just blame it on the increasingly giddy feeling in your chest.

You stomache budgles, literally stuffed with more than it can handle.

You don't care and bring up one last mouthful.

Or, try to anyway.

You thinkpan is beyond a little fuzzy now.

You can barely think.

But, you're still coherent enough to realize that, before you do something incredibly stupid like pass out and fall from the tree, thus tipping the scale, you should climb back down the tree.

It takes a little work, but you manage to finally get your self back upright onto the tree branch, budgling stomache pressed to the branch.

You start to scoot down the branch lazily, yawning loudly.

You finally get all the way down the branch, the branch unbending from the relief of your weight.

Your but hits the back of the tre, and you honestly think you passed out for a minute.

Because then you blinked open your eyes and started making your way down the tree, thinkpan still fuzzy from the slime.

You manage to make it most of the way down the tree before you pass out for good this time.

You just manage to hope with your barely coherent thinking before you begin to black out that youdon't die because you decided to get high as fuck by eating wing-beast slime.

You wouldn't be able to live it down after all the time you had told Gamzee not to eat his damn sopor slime.

Darkness consumes you.

And that version of Karkat Vantaz was wiped from the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and your lusus has hatched a long time before it should've

At least, you're sure it hatched.

You mean, there's only half of a eggshell on the scale, and you found pieces of shell leading to the egg, but, then where's your newly hatched lusus?

Surely-.

Surely it couldn't've-.

No.

No.

It didn't, it's not possible!

You FINALLY just got your lusus! You cam,n't lose them already!

You have to check the egg.

Maybe there's some mistake?

Instead of being a full grown wing-beast like you thought your lusus was going to be, it's actually not big enough to climb out of the shell?

Yes, that's it.

It has to be it.

You just can't deal with losing your lusus already.

You just can't.

You glance around and try to find a way to get to the egg.

Unfortunately, you can't just tilt the scale it's on and toward you so you can reach the egg.

No.

Why would you purposely unbalance the scale and lose what time this planet has left for peace?

None.

There are absoultley no reasons to do that.

So you don't climb up the back of the rock, even though it'd be useful with all the jutting bumps and ledges sticking out.

You sigh.

And then cackle loudly at the irony of the situation.

You don't want to tilt the scale, bit you want the lusus to get off of the other part of the scale, thusly unbalancing it?

Gog, you're a piece of work!

You snigger to yourself and get back to the topic at hand.

But, no, unfortunately you can't do that.

So you start examining the nearby trees, trying to find one that'll be close enough for you to peer over inro the egg's contents, and possibly help our your lusus.

You spot a tree near enough and make you way over to it.

You stop in your tracks.

Somethings already been up that tree.

At least, you assume so by the claw marks and randomly missing hunks of bark along the tree's trunk.

Something's already been at your lusus.

You hurry over to the tree, reguardless of your safety, and almost trip over something.

You fall.

Annoyed, angry, and fustrated, you turn to whatever it was, if for nothing else than to kick it out of the way so you didn't trip over it again when you scaled back down the tree.

And you stop.

Your frozen.

Shocked.

Just underneath the foot you had raised, was a little wriggler.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn't THAT young, but the thing was damn well certainly SMALL and YOUNG AS ALL FUCK!

Why is there a wriggler all the way out here in the forest?

And even more importantly:

Where's its lusus?

You quickly whip your head in all directions, not wanting to be attacked by some over-protective lusus.

There's nothing there except the trees and the little wriggler.

You look back at it.

It's covered in yellow-ish slime.

It seems to be covered in a large hooded-sweatshirt, much to large for its small and fragile structure.

It makes it seem even smaller.

From what you can see through the slime, the sweatshirt is a green-ish or blue-ish colo-.

Wait.

Just wait.

You, like the professional lawyer you aspire to be, start turn over and putting together certain facts.

Firstly, your lusus has hatched.

Secondly, the scale is still balanced.

Thirdly, there is a wriggler in the middle of your forest. From nowhere.

Fourthly, you're a teal blood.

Fifthly, the wriggler's wearing a greenish-blue-ish shirt.

(And, where did it get her sweat-shirt? She was the only troll, much less teal-blood, around to get the shirt FROM, so, it just had to be hers, who else's could it be.

You assume that it was either from the same magical powers that let it talk to you through the shell, or you had, at one point in time, left one of your sweat-shirts out here on one of the many trips you've taken here.)

Sixthly, you can't find you lusus. Or, or, maybe, just MAYBE-.

You quickly scurry over to the tree and scale it like Pupa Pan.

You swing your leg up and over the nearest branch, and claw and scoot your way down the branch.

You've almost reached the egg.

You lean down pressing your stomache flat against the wood, and wait as the branch bends down.

You can finally peer down into egg, and you're shocked by what you see.

(Though, you DID think it might just possibly, in another world, with just the slightest chance, just MAYBE, just maybe, just maybe, just maybe, just maybe, maybemaybemaybeMAYBEMAYBE…!)

And there's only yellow-ish slime.

Just like the stuff the wriggler's coated in.

You've finally obtained your lusus.


	4. Chapter 4

You just can't believe it.

What you were damn sure was going to be some kind of magnificent wing-beast is just a little wiggler.

There HAS to be a mistake!

Gog, what did you do to deserve this?!

The lusus is supposed to take care of YOU!

You're not supposed to take care of IT!

But, you'll bring it to your hive anyway.

But you're still pissed.

You can't imagine why your lusus had lied to you about its form.

You were pissed about the true form of the lusus.

But, you really can't blame it.

If you were it the same position, you would have lied to prevent being culled, too.

After all, lusus and trolls were supposed to be two completely different species. One was beastal and took care of the trolls, while the trolls kept their lusus in line.

That's the way it's supposed to be.

No exceptions allowed.

But, there is one.

You lusus.

It has survived despite the pressing odds, and is here with you now.

You just hoped it wasn't hurt.

After all, its a long way down from the egg for such a little thing, and it was quiet a bit of a way away from the scale.

(You hope its not dead.)

You scurry down the tree as fastly as you can, dread, anger, hurt, confusion, fustration, and worry bubbling in your stomache, making each second that ticked by seem like forever.

You tried to repress the rising "toolatetoolatedeaddeadeadeadtoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolate!" and ran across the forest floor to your lusus.


	5. Chapter 5

You knees hit the ground next to it.

Gog, you really have to find out its gender so you can stop calling it "it".

Or at least its name, or, or, or something damn it!

Point is, you're getting tired of calling your newfound lusus "it".

You'll think of a name for it later.

Which brings you back to what you're supossed to be doing: checking your lusus.

As gentley as you can, you turn the little wriggler over, and place one of your fingers on its pulse and let another hover over its mouth and nose, hoping to feel breath puffing against your palm, or at least a heart beat.

You can't feel anything against your palm, and your blood-pusher momentarily squeezes, but you keep your fingers where they are, and, after a few nerve wracking moments, you can feel a faint, but steady pulse.

You sigh in relief, and let the silly grin twist your lips whick ever way it wishes to.

(You finally have your lusus! And it is alive!)

You start to gentlely pat down its body, notice with every inch you feel just how SMALL it is, looking for wounds.

It's starved, you can tell that from the way it's stomache is budgled out (But, with what?) and the way it's ribs and hip bones jutt against it's skin. It's arms and legs are also bone thin.

While patting it down you brush your fingers over it's side, trying not to aggravate it's grub scar or grub legs, but, when you do, the creature screams as if you had pulled it's grub legs out.

('Cause, that's what it had, at least, you think they're grub legs. It still might just be something unique to your lusus. You'll see.)

You jump automatically, not expecting such a loud sound from such a small figure, but stop and go back down into the position you were in.

No use scaring it by your height, after all.

But, unfortunately, you scar it anyway, it's eyes snap open with a wail, and your breath catches, because it's eyes are fully teal (There is no doubt now that it is, indeed, your lusus.) and they're the most BEAUTIFUL shade of teal you've ever seen in your whole life.

It's eyes are framed by thick eyelashes, almost wiry in their appearance, and it has a slight blue flush to it's cheeks from the pain.

It's at this point that you notice the small, cone-like horns on it's head, and feel a swell of pride that it has your horns, and its almost white complextion.

Now, it's not fully white, like a proper lusus, but is actually a really light grey, but you guess that's okay so that it would make it easier for it not to be caught by the drones.

And these aspects?

Make.

It.

Look.

Even.

More.

Fucking.

Fragile.

It looks so small, so delicate, that you immediately act on your instincts, and rush forward to sweep it in your arms, to protect it before anything else could harm it, (Andwherearethesefeelingscomingfrom?) but scrambles away from you with another ear shattering wail.

You stumble back, grabbing your ears.

Fuck. That HURTS!

There's tears leaking out of your eyes, but you focus back on your lusus.

It's managed to drag it's body to the other side of the clearing, running on tiny, delicate little clawed feet.

It's so beautiful. Even when it was running in terror.

At least it already had survival instincts, you guess, maybe it won't have to go through an trails if it has most of the skills it needs, you briefly wonder.

But, then you start running after your lusus.

For such a timy thing, it sure is fast. (You feel another swell of pride.)

It also manages to mostly expertly dodge the trees, dancing, twisting, and turning to avoid branches and trees as if it had been there it's whole life. (Which, technoloy, it has.)

It's is making it's way vaugely towards your housejust to far North. Oh well, at least it hadn't run the opposite way, right?

It keeps wailing, but with the wind battering your ears and blocking out part of the noise, your able to grit your teeth and continue running after it, even if a tear or two rolls down your cheeks.

You start to gain on it, if from nothing else than it's tiring and smaller than you, and you take this chance to thank Gog for your long legs.

You're almost on it, but it's not quiet enough, so you strain and try to run even faster, before lunging at it, and you hope to Gog that you'll make it and catch it before you end up losing your lusus forever because of a stupid mistake on your part.

Gog must have been listening, because you manage to catch it. Just barely, but you quickly restle it into your grip where you hang on tight, leg and arms pining it limbs down so it can't escape.

You hold it down while it wails and trashes, sobbing youself from the ear-piercing sounds spilling from it's lips, but you remain firm and hold on until it begins to clam down.

And, eventually, it does.

It stops thrashing and just starts trembling, softer wailing and sobbing noises falling from it's lips; it's still convinced you'll hurt it.

You don't let it go, but you losen your hold slightly, trying to show it you weren't threatening it.

It still isn't calming down, so you start to nuzzle it's neck and the back of it's head, clicking, cooing, whining, whimpering, and occasinally chirping at it.

Amazingly, it calms down. It stop sobbing and wailing, but just starts sniffling instead.

(It makes your blood-pusher hurt.)

Continue to coo and make noises at it, licking and nuzzling whatever skin is available.

However, it really surprises you when it turns around with a questing coo of it's own, and starts nuzzling you back.

It shocks you, enough that your arms losen enough to let it go, but it doesn't run and instead wraps it's arms and legs around you, chirping and cooing all the while.

You feel like it's just staked some kind of claim on you, and your blood-pusher gives a happy pang.

You have a lusus, now. Or, at the very, very least, a little brother.

You couldn't be happier.

* * *

><p>.<p>

(This is the theory behind Karkat's clothes changing colors, guys, his clothes changing colors had nothing to do with the time-displacememt or the mutation from the dragon slime.) (Acids change clothes' colors.)


End file.
